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Thanks to a residency at EcoHealth, my verse these days finds inspiration in the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at LMU München, where I tutor composition and edit a poetry weekly, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach at MVHS and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.

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λόγος σπερματικός


by Mark Olival-Bartley

The wordsthey come, as ink to paper comes,
as naught at first; but when the pen's nib slips
into its native groove, the deluge sums
what Noah knew would come from misted drips:

The world is lost as mental cadence hums
the hammers, Vulcan-like, that forge the chips
of Logos into mettle that now mums
the Muse to yield what the prosaic skips.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

NaPoWriMo14 #3

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